Good For You
by Exiiona
Summary: Roach has a difficult time grasping the nature of his and Ghost's relationship. Ghost explains it in his simplest terms.


Disclaimer: CoD's not mine. Celebrate the fact. Very en-ess-ef-dubya here.

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It had gotten to the point where Roach had stopped asking why Ghost had such an affinity for leaving his mark all over his body, though his eyes still asked the question every time his partner picked a spot for marring and began the process.

"Why?" Roach had panted, fingers knotting into Ghost's thick, dark hair and giving a sharp pull. Ghost didn't answer his question immediately, but Roach knew he heard him, because he felt those agonising lips smirk against his neck.

Once satisfied with his work, Ghost readjusted himself to once again hover over Sanderson, licking his lips as his hips connected harshly with the body beneath him, causing Roach to cry out. He fell into this pace, hard and rough and inconsistently timed, each minor adjustment earning a new sound from the lithe, flushed Sanderson.

"I like to mark my property."

Roach furrowed his brows in confusion- It took him a moment to realise that that _was_ the answer to his question- It was a little difficult to focus with the current circumstances. He wasn't sure how he felt about being called "property", but after Ghost lowered his head and pursed his lips against his chest, he didn't really care.

If this was property status, he was golden. He'd deal with the technicalities when he wasn't being fucked senseless.

Ghost had a way with sex the same as he had a way with fighting- He was damn good. And he knew it, and somehow, that made it all the better. The lieutenant worked his way from the center of Roach's chest, over the crook of his throat, and placed small, heated kisses along the trapezius muscle of his neck until he was nipping along the contour of his jaw. His lips halted their assault beneath his ear and his panting gave way to a soft, gravelly groan. Sanderson was beginning to feel himself falling apart at the seams.

And as if Ghost's constant and overwhelming attentiveness wasn't enough, he wrapped his hand around Sanderson's length and starting pumping, slow and expertly, his grip slightly tighter at the base and easing as he reached the tip, thumb skipping across it. It was driving the sergeant an entirely new kind of insane.

This was only the second time they'd done this- The first was over too quickly to really be good. They were both too eager and too wrapped up in adrenaline and it had been solid hormonal instinct that drove them to do it. But this was deeper, this was for dealing with stress and stability and instead of simply trying to get off, Ghost was looking to please them both, and hell if he wasn't succeeding.

Sanderson's parched lips parted and he moaned, a low, throaty sound that changed pitch the longer it persisted, and Ghost felt himself grinning in triumph. He'd been worried that Roach wouldn't be as active a participant in this particular exercise, but he was wrong, and the sounds he was making were music to his ears.

He quickened his pace, experimented with his angle- He could almost feel the man beneath him losing it and swallowed his next moan by crushing their lips together.

He tasted blood- he must have reopened that split lip. There was no question who the dominant one was, and therefore no resistance from Roach. Ghost's tongue easily pushed passed his lips and tangled with his, tracing the line of his teeth and his upper lip.

Upon feeling the other's length twitch in his palm, Ghost released him, and Roach groaned, having been denied his release. He tightened his fingers in his hair and yanked harshly, murmuring "Ghost" and trying his best to make it sound threatening. He was notably caught off-guard when Ghost moved his lips back beneath his ear and whispered, "It's Simon."

Of course, Roach knew his lieutenant's name- He just hadn't thought he was allowed to use it. He didn't think anyone was allowed to use it. He entertained the thought of it being a special privilege until his thoughts were brought to a jarring halt as Ghost, once again, wrapped his hand around his arousal and fell back into that devilish rhythm that had him writhing in a matter of seconds.

"Say it," Ghost hissed.

Roach screwed his eyes shut. "Please, sir," he murmured.

Ghost moved his hand.

"Please! Simon, please!"

That was better. Ghost replaced his hand and matched his strokes with the pace of his own thrusts, and Sanderson came apart. He was resigned and nearly limp and mewling in a way Simon never thought he'd find so arousing, and with every sound, he was brought closer to his own climax. And, sure enough, not a moment later, he came undone, riding it out nearly silently save for his heavy, panting breath. He rolled off of him onto the mattress and closed his eyes.

Fifteen minutes of comfortable silence passed and Roach found himself sitting up, legs crossed, and staring at his lieutenant, who still seemed to be reveling in the post-coital relaxation. He was surprised he wasn't gone. Last time he'd left- Roach had already, so soon, taken to thinking that sex would be just that.

The younger male chewed his lip thoughtfully. Ghost opened a single eye to look at him.

"Penny for your thoughts, bug."

Roach froze and stared at him and came to the realisation that he was nervous. This had been the closest, intimately, they had ever been. Ghost seemed comfortable, but Roach was nearly terrified.

"I— Why'd you— Your name," he stammered.

"Why'd I tell you to call me by name?"

Roach nodded.

"'S more…suiting. For, ah, us."

Roach frowned. "Us?"

"Makes no sense for us to not be on a first-name basis."

He moved onto his second thought. "I'm not your property," he said, carefully crafting it as a question. Ghost swallowed his nerves.

"I'd like you to be."

To Ghost's disappointment, Sanderson's expression was unreadable. It was somewhere caught between happiness and dread, as if he was contemplating what, exactly, this meant. After a pregnant pause, he said, "…You would?"

Ghost nodded and propped himself up on an elbow in order to grab the other by the back of the neck and pull him down for a kiss.

He watched in mild, relaxed amusement as Roach's expression dissolved from one thing to another- Surprise, fondness, apprehensiveness, and disbelief. He seemed to settle on the last and murmured a barely-audible, "I'm not good."

Simon simply shook his head.

"You're absolutely perfect."


End file.
